


Like Cinnamon

by dirty_diana



Category: Firefly
Genre: F/F, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-12-07
Updated: 2002-12-07
Packaged: 2019-04-29 06:56:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14467383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirty_diana/pseuds/dirty_diana
Summary: Kissed the girls, and made them cry.





	Like Cinnamon

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Firefly’s Glow](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Firefly%27s_Glow), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Firefly's Glow collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/fireflysglow/profile).

 

Like Cinnamon

## Like Cinnamon

### by dirty diana

Warnings: not today, sorry  
Feedback: welcome  
Disclaimer: I didn't invent these characters. Obviously. Notes: this is mostly a Kaylee/River fic, with some hints of the Ambiguously Gay Trio Simon/Mal/Jayne. Set after Ariel, before War Games. Part 1 of 2 (I think). 

It is the fifth day sine the crew left Ariel, which makes this fourth breakfast. Just protein nuggets, drizzled in milk substitute, but you aren't noticing the taste, or the lack of it. You are watching the tension clearly visible in the mess hall, trying to trace its path. 

The centre of the storm must be Mal, you think, because he is the calmest one, carelessly crunching his protein as if no one else is in the room. You're not sure, but Zoe must be connected as well. Zoe is an extension of the captain, always has been. She too crunches away, trying not to watch Jayne, who is trying not to watch Mal, and not succeeding. Jayne has been sitting, for all four breakfasts, barely eating, right hand near his waist, as if expecting any minute to need the knife that sits there. 

River's in it too. She's watching Jayne, and every now and again she giggles, to herself. 

"Would you like some more cereal, Jayne?" Simon's clear, even voice breaks the uncomfortable silence. 

Jayne grunts. "No, thanks." 

This gets Mal's first reaction of the day. He looks at Simon, then he looks at Jayne, and if looks could kill...Jayne would be a puddle, you think, a melted puddle, like the drops of milk substitute that Wash has spilled on the table. 

They won't tell you, of course. No one ever tells you what is going on. You're only the girl who fixes the engines. And you wouldn't even care, particularly, except for the feeling that it might have something to do with River. 

As if she has heard her name spoken aloud, River looks up at you, and smiles. You smile back. "Guess I better start workin'. Engine ain't gonna look after itself. Want to come help?" 

She nods. 

~~ 

"Gorramit!" You curse out loud, as your fingers slip off an engine clamp. This clamp was clearly made for someone with smaller fingers than you, and refuses to budge. You have been fighting with it for near on ten minutes, trying to get to the moving parts behind it. 

River stands up, and comes to look. She is singing something underneath her breath - it is an old earth rhyme, Simon says. She has been singing it for almost two days now. "Georgie Porgie," that's the only part you can make out. Then something about kissing girls. You look at her. "You want to give it a try, sweetie?" you ask her. "Just grab on and twist to the right." 

River has tiny slender fingers, covered in pale, perfect skin. The clamp comes off easily, and the panel that it secures pulls wide open. 

"Good. Now hold it. I just need to take a look." You point your flashlight towards the darkness, one hand reaching inside, while River stands behind you. She's still singing. The back of your head feels like it's burning cold, where you know that she is looking at you. 

"There we go." You step back from the hatch. "That's runnin' fine." 

River closes the hatch and turns the clamp, as you watch. She really does have flawless hands, slim and fine, except for the nails that are short where she bites them. You can't resist the urge to touch, to examine that soft skin. 

As your grease stained palms press warmth against her, River snatches her hand away. "Bad." 

You forget, of course. Sometimes, when she looks at you like this, hair falling in her face, clear coffee eyes clear and free of confusion, you forget how different her world is. 

"Sorry, sweetie." You pull your hand away, and tuck it into the pocket of your jumpsuit. "I wasn't going to hurt you." 

River shakes her head emphatically. "He's my mother. Mother and father. Like cinnamon." 

"He's your..." you start to repeat the sentence, when you realise who she means. "Simon don't much care what I do these days, I reckon. He's much too busy followin' Jayne around, like a puppy-dog." 

River looks at you. Her expression is clear again, all fear gone. She leans forward, into you, and before you can blink you taste her, warm and sure against your lips. When she leans back again, her eyes are still locked on yours. Fear gone, but replaced by what? You can't tell. You only have the feeling that it is dangerous. A smile curves her pink mouth. 

"Like cinnamon," she says. "Do you taste it?" 

You nod, numbly. She turns, and is gone. 

#### If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to dirty diana


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